


undisclosed desires

by wolframvonbielefeld (maknaeline)



Series: cloud's giftfics [7]
Category: The Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation, 魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Wangji, Character Study, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-24 17:02:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16179374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maknaeline/pseuds/wolframvonbielefeld
Summary: Wuxian has always been listening. Wangji realizes that now.[Wangji represses his desire, and Wuxian comforts him in a way they both can let go.]





	undisclosed desires

**Author's Note:**

> for kale @lunastris. this, like every other wangxian fic I've done, got out of hand. thank you for the prompt, I loved writing this.
> 
> MIND THE TAGS. do NOT complain about them in the comments. you won't get a reply, just a deletion.

“Lan Zhan?”

 

A shadow falls across the light streaming in from the pavilion balcony, and Wangji lifts his head to see his husband sitting across him, a smile on his face as he pokes at the stack of scrolls on the table.

 

“Wei Ying? I thought you were with my uncle.” In their earlier years, Wangji would have looked away from the brightness that consumes the room, how Wuxian seems to draw all natural light towards himself just like his pure black robes, absorbing it at the same time as he gives out his own.

 

(He has dreamed, often, of how Wuxian would look in Lan sect robes. But he would never dream of making him wear something he doesn't want - and Wuxian, wild and free as he is, has never belonged inside the Sect, as much as he insists that he belongs to him. That they belong to each other.)

 

“Mhm, I was.” He settles down, flicking a scroll open to read over it. “He told me some things, and I couldn’t stop thinking about how much I missed you, so I had to come here immediately, you see!”

 

How odd. Unless...it's about that.

 

He knows what Wuxian is going to ask, even before he says the words.

 

“Lan Zhan, will you tell me about your scars?” his husband asks - and how can Wangji say no? No - to the person who -

 

But no. He was never responsible. It was him. And Wangji would have taken a thousand more, skin splitting and bones cracking, if it meant that he could have brought Wuxian back with him. He thinks about it very less, only noticing when Wuxian traces his hands over them curiously in bed, or scratches them deeper in the throes of passion.

 

Wuxian knows what they were for, but it has never been something they have sat down to talk about. Wangji feels like it’s time they were due for a discussion, but it is something he hoped to put off for years, so he feels disconcerted. The strange light in Wuxian’s eyes does not help.

 

“Wei Ying, you already know what they’re for. And who - who gave them to me.” He closes his eyes, unable to meet that stare. “It is not something I look back upon fondly, given the circumstances.”

 

“Mhm, but that’s exactly why we need to talk about it.” Wuxian’s voice is strange too now, almost cold. “Lan Zhan - everyone knew. Even little A-Yuan knew of it - except me. All this time, and you never -”

 

“You cannot fault me for that,” Wangji says, tone almost heated. “Wei Ying, you always took the blame upon yourself - how was I supposed to tell you? You did not even remember!”

 

“I wasn’t alive though, was I? You could have told me things, and I would have believed you, even if I did not trust you.” Wuxian gets up, slowly walking to Wangji’s side of the desk. He settles down, this time next to him, and takes one of Wangji’s hand in his. “And even despite all of it - all of your reasons -”

 

“Wei Ying -”

 

“- you have not talked to me about the thirteen years apart,” he says, and Wangji blinks. The birds are silent in the wind that whistles through the magnolia tree, like every decision he has made is at the brink of going awry.

 

“I - How was - how can I even talk about it? Wei Ying, how can you ask this of me?” He feels angry now, at a loss for words. “What do you  _ expect _ -”

 

“Anger.” Wuxian says, leaning in. “Resentment. Despair. All of them, perhaps, tangled together as one.”

 

“You feel responsible,” Wangji finally utters, tone going bleak. Dread fills his heart. “Wei Ying, it was never your fault. Did we not promise -?”

 

“No,” Wuxian says, and his hands come up to cup his cheeks together as he stares into his eyes seriously. Golden meets brown (meets grey flickering behind them). “You misunderstand. Lan Zhan, you love me too much. I am responsible of the murder of thousands, even though I was not the one who was guilty for the order. I can be guiltless for the scars on your back and still feel responsible for them.”

 

“You shouldn’t,” Wangji says, his left hand coming up to hold Wuxian’s palm over his left cheek, turning his face to brush his lips over it, feeling Wuxian’s hand lean into the almost-kiss involuntarily. “It is true, I have always been selfish when it came to you, but it is not such a hardship to love you that I am always self-sacrificing for it.”

 

“And neither am I,” Wuxian counters. He draws his hands away, almost smiling at the aggrieved look that Wangji sends him. “Lan Zhan, I love you unconditionally, which means that -”

 

“That?” Wangji asks. Wuxian looks at him thoughtfully, before slowly raking his eyes down his figure. Wangji suddenly feels very naked in his inner robes.

 

“Nothing,” he says cheerfully. “It’s almost time for bed, haven’t you noticed? And I’m here to steal you away.”

 

It’s obviously not what he was going to say earlier, so Wangji lets it go, doubt clouding his heart. Wuxian’s harebrained schemes (including the actual live hares) are not new to him, so he can possibly deal with them when the time comes. 

 

In any case, Wuxian’s hands and lips prove to be much more distracting in the next few minutes to pursue that trail of thought.

 

***

 

Apparently, Wuxian’s newest tactic to make him talk involves him cornering him outside his private study after lunch the next day, pulling him into a shaded alcove just as a few disciples pass by, not even a quarter of a li away. He can hear their whispered conversation, and feels his ears heat up as Wuxian shamelessly ignores it to press every inch of his body against his as Wangji’s back hits the wall, grinding up against his thighs. He is unusually proactive today, and that alone makes Wangji tremble, knowing that he won’t stop until he has what he wants.

 

“Wei Ying...Wei Ying, we can't, not  _ here _ ,” Wangji whispers, but his hands are already shaking, and Wuxian buries his face in his neck, spiritual energy coursing through him and making the hair at the back of Wangji’s neck stand up. Being cultivation partners who consummate their relationship  _ everyday _ is a double edged sword - he knows that Wuxian isn't going to stop, and Wuxian knows that if he wants to he can easily twist this around, pin Wuxian against the wall instead, and kiss him senseless, like he has so many times before.

 

If he wants, he can run away.

 

Instead he pulls him closer, rakes his hands through his hair. His head feels lighter and giddier at every bite Wuxian leaves on him, at every shocked noise that leaves his own throat when Wuxian does not hold back, at the exchange of energy that sparks through them.

 

“Wei Ying, please, the bedroom -” he protests, but Wuxian pins his wrists to the wall and sucks, hard, and Wangji sees stars again when Wuxian’s knee pushes against the front of his uniform shorts. they’re way too tight for this. “I - I cannot stand it, I cannot stay like this.”

 

“Not yet,” Wuxian breathes, and Wangji wants to cry because sometimes Wuxian’s stubbornness makes him want to pin him down and punt him into the spring, but some other times it just makes him want to pin him down, period. This is an exception, and he feels weak-kneed by the time Wuxian pulls his mouth away from his neck and slowly works his way down his chest, pulling his robes apart, gently placing his hand over the brand on him. It’s going to leave a mark, but he doesn’t care. He can’t think. not like this, when Wuxian’s pulling down their pants in rapid succession, not even bothering to do it properly. 

 

“Get it off-” Wangji tries, and Wuxian smiles deviously from his place at Wangji’s navel. 

 

“Don’t worry, Lan Zhan, I will.” 

 

He palms Wangji’s cock through his underclothes, and clamps down on the base when it feels like he’s about to come. “As many times as you want, always.”

 

Oh holy Buddha. Wangji closes his eyes, resigned to his fate, when Wuxian gets his underclothes loose, and wraps a leg around him. Wuxian smiles against his skin, the bastard, and then fucks into the space between his thighs. 

 

“This is what you wanted, though, didn’t you? Wasn’t that why you were so silent, when I brought up all the yang energy I’d accumulated last week?”

 

“That’s- irrelevant - at this p-point,” he gasps. Wangji should have known it would backfire on him. Wuxian always goes for the offbeat path, breaking Wangji’s rhythm, always making his own that somehow synchronizes with his perfectly. His thighs feel so  _ slick _ , Wuxian’s spiritual energy apparently having a strong enough reaction on his psyche. “Did you realize it - today?”

 

“Mhm, when you brushed up against me, and you were really hard.” There’s that shamelessness that makes Wangji want to kiss him and burn at the same time, but then he’s panting against the other’s shoulder while Wuxian fucks in once, twice, three times, his own cock pressed against his stomach. “Wei Ying - not anymore-”

 

“You can,” he encourages, just before everything goes white and starry. 

 

He comes to when he’s still in Wuxian’s arms, being carried over the threshold of their room. Wuxian leans down to press a kiss to his head. “Don’t worry, I hid all our clothes in the alcove. No one should be interrupting us, anyway.”

 

“That’s not -” Wangji bites down on a retort. “You could have waited, you didn’t need to carry me.”

 

“But Lan Zhan doesn’t let me take care of him enough!” Wuxian says, and then he finds himself being lowered on their bed, Wuxian climbing in after him. Wangji could care less about the lack of his robes, but the way Wuxian stares at him still, after so many years, makes his ears burn. “So it’s my turn, today.”

 

“You - you want to?” Wangji says, uncertain, and Wuxian pulls the ribbon from his hair in response, winding it around his neck before dragging him into a kiss.

 

It’s as good as a verbal answer. Wangji lets out an unintelligible sound when Wuxian slaps his hands away before they can reach for either of their cocks. “My turn, Lan Zhan.”

 

Wangji nods, tersely, and turns around while Wuxian’s weight leaves the bed, no doubt in search of some actual lubrication, which they keep around still just in case. He braces his elbows against the sheets, back arching a little as he feels the pressure on his still-oversensitive cock.

 

It is not the first time he has offered himself to Wuxian like this, and very likely not the last, even though Wuxian seems to enthusiastically prefer the opposite. At times he wonders if it’s selfish of him to monopolize the position, which is why it remains a rare occurrence, with Wuxian often teasing him about how he feels in a different mood today.

 

He is unprepared when the first finger breaches him, and his eyes slam open in surprise as it comes with a kiss to the very top of his spine, where his scars begin.

 

“Lan Zhan,” Wuxian says quietly. “I want you to cry, today.”

 

“Cry?” he asks, blankly.

 

“Tell me everything,” Wuxian confirms. “Cry if you need to,” he places a kiss further down his spine, kissing down his scars until Wangji’s whole body shudders with desire. “Otherwise, you won’t get what you want.”

 

“Wei Ying, that’s -!” Wangji breaks off, gasping as the finger inside him strikes deeper. “I - anything you ask, but how -”

 

“The first year, Lan Zhan,” Wuxian says, mouth at his ear. He nips it with his teeth. “Tell me, what did you do the first year?”

 

Wangji almost blanks out, the sheer pressure of another finger added to the mix not helping at all. “I - I remember very little.” he confesses. “There were - they were concerned about me, and talk of political marriages. It was -” he sucks in a breath as the fingers curl into him aggressively, Wuxian’s grip on him getting tighter. “They thought I would be more responsible. Less of a wreck. It continued for years.”

 

Wuxian gives him a reprieve, slowing down the rhythm, until Wangji is making soft, needy sounds with each thrust of his fingers. “That’s not nice at all. And definitely not something I was told, Lan Zhan.” His mouth is back on his ear, but this time it follows a path downwards, Wuxian’s tongue trailing over the bruises he made earlier. “Why did you tell me now? Could it be - you want me jealous? As jealous as you seem to get?” He enters another finger, and Wangji keens into the pillows. “I cannot help but be jealous, you know.”

 

Wangji almost comes at the words alone, especially when his fingers speed up right after. He tries to keep his voice down, but Wuxian has been making him louder, making him speak and cry for over twenty years now. He cries out, fingers scrabbling at the sheets, almost tearing through them. “Wei Ying, please - not this, not now.”

 

“Why not?” Wuxian demands, breath hot against his skin. “You’re not the only one allowed to get jealous, Lan Zhan. Thirteen years I could not be with you, skin to skin, while others were. Did you go to those meetings?”

 

“Sometimes,” Wangji gasps. This has to be the most - unconventional method anyone has ever picked to make him talk, and of course Wuxian would be the one to come up with it. A fourth finger goes in him, and he buries his head in the pillows again, muffling a sob that tears forth from his throat. “Not always. I started to take A-Yuan with me, because he would always start crying and we would be forced to leave.”

 

“Using our son as an excuse too, how manipulative,” Wuxian tuts, and bites down again, with the next thrust rubbing right up against the gland that wrecks the both of them every time it’s touched. “Lan Zhan, you’re a glutton for punishment, admitting all of this. So beautiful for me, too. You were always faithful to me, weren’t you?”

 

“Always,” Wangji’s voice is throaty now. “Always, Wei Ying.”

 

“That,” Wuxian says, pulling all his fingers out. “Makes me want to reward you instead.”

 

Wangji doesn’t have time to comment on his odd mood, before Wuxian lines up and pushes in. The pressure makes him forget to breathe, before Wuxian starts to rub his hips and waist, steadily loosening his muscles. He inhales as Wuxian goes in to the hilt.

 

“So beautiful, Lan Zhan,” he says. “All mine, too. Did you miss me?”

 

“Yes,” Wangji says. He arches his back, and lets Wuxian pull his hair so he can turn around and kiss him. “Every day.”

 

“Did you -” Wuxian’s voice breaks, and he changes position, slowly leaning into his left side, pulling Wangji along with him so that they lie on their sides. His cock slips out for a moment before he slides back in, and holds Wangji’s leg up for smoother entry. They kiss in that awkward position for a while, energy still sparking from every place they touch each other, before Wuxian breaks the kiss. 

 

“Did you cry for me?” he asks again.

 

Wangji doesn’t answer, turning away. His eyes are wet, contrary to all his expectations. Wuxian doesn’t stop. 

 

“Tell me, Lan Zhan, how should I know if you don’t tell me?” He moves one hand to rest over his heart, hearing it beat faster as he thrusts forward. Wangji wants to bury his face in his hands, but he also feels immobilized as Wuxian moves in him, his spiritual energy sparking all through them until he leaves the sheets shredded.

 

“Tell me,” Wuxian insists. “Did you love me, all that time? Did you want me to love you back?”

 

“Yes,” Wangji finally says, voice breaking. “Every day. Every moment I played for you. Every minute when you weren’t with me, when -”

 

His energy fluctuates, and the flowers outside of the window flutter wildly, causing dozens of petals to fall. The curtains shred, and Wuxian bites down on his shoulder, pressing his hands to his hips. Wangji twists against him, conflicted between never letting him see his crying face and wanting to kiss him, and Wuxian makes that decision for him, kissing him deeper as he pulls his body closer to him. Wuxian has always been listening - to his silent appeal, to how he cries and how his heart beats in sync with his. He realizes that now.

 

He can see stars again, but this time he feels nothing but relief, tears flowing freely when he comes apart in Wuxian’s arms. He can feel in sharp relief the way Wuxian comes inside him, thrusting further until he’s over-sensitive and crying harder, the magnolia petals that float in through the window as if to surround them both, the way the bed creaks, unused to the fluctuations he has experienced today.

 

His ears burn when he realizes, after his euphoria dims, that the entirety of the Cloud Recesses probably felt the vortex of spiritual energy that they had unleashed today.

 

Wuxian, of course, is only delighted when he tells him as much, completely ignoring his disgruntled face.

 

“So you’re telling me that everyone now knows that we love each other?” is his conclusion, and Wangji almost rolls his eyes, but that is overtaken by a bigger question.

 

“Wei Ying,” he asks hesitantly, unwilling to face him in the awkward position they’re still in. “Do you - do you want me to be selfish?”

 

Wuxian kisses the top of his head affectionately. “Lan Zhan, I only want you to tell me how you feel - to share things with me like you would for a husband.” He hasn’t pulled out yet, so he only laughs when Wangji turns his face to him, aggrieved. “I made you cry today, didn’t I?

 

“Yes,” he says, not seeing how that is relevant.

 

“And I took responsibility,” Wuxian explains, and this time goes for a deeper kiss, one that steals the breath from his lungs again. “It’s my duty - and what I want to do for the rest of my life. Just as you do for me.”

 

Wangji pauses in the middle of a retort, eyes wide. He just stares at Wuxian, speechless, until Wuxian starts to squirm, uncomfortable. “Hey, you don’t need to look so surprised.”

 

Wangji snorts softly, turning away. His heart always feels like it’s being manually stitched together every time Wuxian reaffirms his love, but today it feels - whole. “You didn’t have to propose to me twice, Wei Ying.”

 

“Lan Zhan!” Wuxian says, half in disbelief and half in delight, and pulls him back into his embrace again. “I’ll do it every single day of my life, if you want me to.”

 

“So many promises,” he teases, and is interrupted with a kiss. 

 

(It is a long afternoon in the Cloud Recesses when the red-faced Lan disciples and elders feel the vortex of spiritual energy, and they note to distract themselves that these days, Hanguang jun plays Inquiry less often, and instead, plays a tune that they have never heard before, the notes of his cultivation partner’s dizi accompanying it. It is a welcome change.)

**Author's Note:**

> [2008 style omake]
> 
> wwx, reading this: this is character assassination meghna I Am Clearly A Powerbottom  
> me: consider this: I give you both a double ended dildo next time  
> wwx: You Might Be On To Something Here  
> lwj: Mm


End file.
